


New Habits

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Domestic Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean coughed as he expelled the smoke from his lungs. "How do you stand it?" "Same way you get over the burn of whisky, kid: you keep at it." Jean Havoc's back story.  First chapter of an abandoned plot bunny. Rated M for violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Habits

"Get down here before I jerk your scrawny ass out that bed and beat you awake!" Ned Havoc bellowed up the stairs to his only son. Jean rolled over, sleepy eyed and groaning. His old man had him scheduled to run the store today, even though it was the first day of summer break. Scratching his messy head, he sat up and grabbed yesterday's jeans off the floor.

"Alright, alright, I'm up!" God… Not too much longer and he wasn't going to have to worry about this stupid store much longer. He'd already decided that next summer he was joining the military. 'To hell with walkin' in Dad's footsteps,' he thought as he went to the bureau and tugged out a clean shirt. 'I'm gonna go places, do something greater for the country than run a fuckin' convenience store… And the women,' he grinned to himself, recalling last night's adventure with an easy girl from the next town over. 'All the women I'm gonna lay… Tall ones, short ones, exotic girls, country girls, city girls… C'mon time… hurry up, I'm ready _now_.'

He shoved his feet into sneakers that were still tied, grabbed the green apron off the doorknob and stomped downstairs. His father was glowering at him over his newspaper. "You know, Jean," he said as his angry green eyes followed the boy around the kitchen, "you're never gonna get anywhere in life if you sleep late everyday."

Fighting the urge to make some sort of smartass remark in response, he instead bit the inside of his cheek and fixed himself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table. He didn't look at his father, nor his mother who was sipping her coffee with a look of fearful anxiety on her worn features. "Sorry," he grunted as he shoveled a bite into his mouth.

Ned went back to the headlines on the third page. "Well, I'll be leavin' in about five minutes, just be ready to go or you'll be walkin'." Jean nodded as he practically inhaled his breakfast.

His mom smiled at him. "Well, only one more year to go Jean. It's hard to believe my boy is already in his last year of school."

"Yeah, then he can pick up some more permanent hours at the store, and maybe I can finally take a fuckin' break!" Ned huffed. Jean closed his eyes and told himself to just let it go, just let his father think what he wanted. It would make the shock of his enlistment that much sweeter when the time came. "Besides, he's got my businessman's blood in his veins. If he'd give it half a shot he'd be good enough to hold down this store while I go open another in West City."

That did it.

"Now hold on a minute Pop, you got another thing comin' if you think I'm gonna waste all of _my_ life runnin' that pissant store!" the young man shouted as he stood up.

His mother gently touched his arm and told him to sit down, and his father lowered his paper with narrowed eyes. "Is that what you think I've done, boy? You think I've wasted my life running the Havoc General Store?" He calmly put the newspaper on the table and stood up, unbuckling his belt and jerking it from the loops on his worn khakis. Jean backed up a few steps. "That 'pissant store' has put food in your belly and a roof over your fuckin' head since before you were born." He strode towards Jean gripping the belt with white knuckles.

"Whaddya gonna do, Pop? Whip me? I'm not a fuckin' kid anymore…"

"True. But I'm still your father, and no matter how old you get, you're still my ungrateful son. And as long as you're under my roof I reserve the right to punish you how I see fit!" He swung the strip of leather and caught Jean's arm with a loud crack, leaving the young man to cry out, wincing with the pain.

"Dammit, Pop! Can't you just accept that I don't wanna be stuck in this backwoods place for the rest of my life?" His answer was another strike from the belt, this time dangerously close to his face.

"Why, ain't it good enough for ya? Ain't it enough to be financially stable and have steady work for the rest of your life?" He lashed out again, the leather strap connecting with his son's shoulder. Another strike connected with his ribs, yet another clipped the back of Jean's hand.

Suddenly, Jean exploded with a roar and came at his dad, fists flying in a furious blur. The two of them began brawling right there in the kitchen, and it wasn't long before Mrs. Havoc was shrieking and running out of the room. The dog was barking hysterically as father and son continued to duke it out. The cereal bowl soon joined in, settling on top of Ned's head and covering him in a mess of milk and corn flakes. Ned's coffee mug was smashed against Jean's jaw, the chair Momma had been sitting on broke somehow and Jean twisted a leg off to defend himself against the stinging swats of the belt and the sharp glint of the buckle.

It felt like they'd been fighting for only a few seconds, but however long it was, it was long enough for Lilly Havoc to run and fetch Mr. Bowdan, a burly mechanic who lived at the house next door. Mr. Bowdan threw Jean into one wall and Ned into the other and stood between them bellowing for them both to stop and threatening to kill them both if they didn't.

Jean's chest heaved as he caught his breath, and he surveyed the bruises and welts he'd left on his father's body. He was sure his nose was broken, the way it was crookedly sitting on his face, but Jean was also pretty sure he himself had lost a tooth thanks to that coffee mug.

Lilly was unsure as to whom she should tend to first, and then his father decided for her. "I want your shit packed and outta here by noon. There better not be any trace of you when I get back from the doctor." Momma helped Pop to his feet and gave Jean a sad look. She gave a glance to Mr. Bowdan, and then they were gone out the back door and taking the old truck into town. Jean looked down at the floor with a half grin. He'd roll with the punches like he always did, even if this was an unexpected wrench in his grand plans.

Mr. Bowdan threw a bag of frozen vegetables at the boy in the floor. "Your eye's lookin' right nice, Jean. Matches the violets in the yard."

He gave a grunt as he laid the bag on his face, it's icy cold going straight through to the bone. "My old man's been beatin' on me for years. I've had worse."

"Mmm, I see. Well, looks like that was the last time, huh?" He stood over him and offered a hand to help him to his feet. Once Jean was up, he swayed a little.

"Really rung my bell that time though. Wasn't expecting that coffee cup…"

Mr. Bowdan pulled a chair out for the boy and told him to sit. "You look like you could use a smoke." He shook one out of the pack in his breast pocket and gave it to him.

"I… I ain't never done it before."

"Well, it's like this…" The mechanic stuck one in his own mouth, lit it, took a drag and inhaled, then blew out a big puff of smoke as he handed the lighter to Jean. The teenager mimicked the man perfectly, adding a choking cough to the routine.

"How do you stand it?" he gasped.

"Same way you get over the burn of whisky, kid," he said as he produced a flask from some other pocket. He poured a bit into a glass from the cabinet. "Keep at it."

Jean, who was very familiar with that warm whisky burn, grinned and drank the amber liquid down in a single gulp. "Right. Well, I guess I better get packin' if I don't want Pop to kill me." He got up and stuck the vegetables back in the freezer, then turned to shake Mr. Bowdan's hand. "Thanks for stickin' around for a bit. I know it kills my mom when she's gotta see us at each other's throat like that."

"Where ya gonna land, son? You got someone to stay with?"

Jean scratched his head. "No, not really. My plan was to just hang in here until next year when I could join the military, but I guess now I just have to wait for my eighteenth birthday."

"When's that?"

"October. I guess I'll just wander around until then, hock all my stuff and do odd jobs when I can…"

Mr. Bowdan laughed. "Jean, you wander around for five months and the military won't take you because you'll be too thin and unhealthy!" He clapped the boy on his shoulder, causing Jean to wince. "Tell ya what, you come stay with me for now, and I'll write to my sister in Carina. I'm sure she could use some help around her garage. You'll be close to Central too, so when you're ready to join up you won't have so far to travel. Plus, there'll be plenty of space between you and your Pop."

"I don't wanna be a burden…" he mumbled, the cigarette still dangling from his lip.

"Oh, you won't be a burden. I got plenty of stuff for ya to do while I'm work. But I promise there'll still be time for yourself, dates and all the things boys your age do." With a smile and a nod, Jean led the man to his room and they began to throw his possessions into his largest suitcase and a large knapsack made from the sheet on his bed.

When Mr. and Mrs. Havoc returned, the room was devoid of any personal affects, leaving the furniture empty of any and all things related to Jean. The first thing they noticed was the dog was gone. As they made their way upstairs, they noted Jean's baseball bat was missing from the corner by the steps and the ball cap that hung on the wall was gone too. In his bedroom, the bed was made, the curtains were straightened and open, the small desk and chair sat neat and free of all the clutter that normally sat on it, the closet was open and bare but for a few hangers… Lilly sat on the bed and wept as Ned commented, "First time this room's been clean since he was a child." He turned and left his wife to mourn the loss of their son alone.

At Mr. Bowden's house, Jean sat on the front porch with his dog, smoking his third cigarette, watching as thunderheads moved in from the west. Mr. Bowden murmured, "Hope you didn't have plans tonight, kid." Jean shook his head. "Hmm, winds of change as they say, right? Well, I guess it'll give ya time to get situated anyhow." Sensing the boy needed some time to think, he gave a weak excuse of working on a carburetor out in the barn he called a garage. Jean barely noticed his leaving, instead losing himself in the feel of Jethro's soft fur and his wandering thoughts, planning his next move and anticipating his imminent departure for Carina.


End file.
